The mighty bougainvillea

In the fall, when I lived in NYC, I would plant various bulbs (before the first freeze) and in the spring I was always pleased to see the first vestiges of a variety of flowering plants including crocus, hyacinths, daffodils and tulips.  The chill was still in the air, the life-span of these plants was very short and it wasn’t until a lot later that I was blessed with the blossoms of a spectacular weeping cherry tree.

In Florida I am greeted with something similar to this photo on almost every street corner.  Talk about a true harbinger of spring!  It’s the mighty bougainvillea and it is practically a weed it grows so well in what is, for all intents and purposes, the tropics.  Although beautiful when in bloom it is a major problem to control.  The thorns this beauty sports is legion!  Gardeners here look like they own a herd of hostile cats after cutting back their bougainvillea.  They are a special treat to the eye…just don’t get too close; they don’t like to be petted.

Where's my sock?

Have you seen this sock?  A couple of weeks ago I bought three pairs of these socks on-line from Zkano Socks (http://zkano.com).  I gave one pair away (a relatively cheap birthday present, right? but nice nonetheless).  Today I laundered the other two according to instructions, that is, inside-out in warm (not hot) water and low temp dryer.  Subsequently, upon sorting the laundry, one of these socks is missing.  I made a futile search in and around the washers/dryers and carefully inspected the sheets/towels, etc., to check if the sock got caught in a random fold or in the woof and warp of some other garment.  Not to be.  How does this happen?  It happens to everybody and it is one of the unexplained phenomenonae of the modern world.  Or maybe, for all I know, ancient worlds.

Torbin's trophy

In early April my nephew achieved, and was celebrated for, his 20th anniversary as an employee of Pixar Animation Studios.  This personalized statue is one of his rewards.  He claims it is solid bronze.  I think it also represents veins of molten silver and a heart of gold.  Whatever it’s made of it is way cool.  When I retired many moons ago I got a pretty nice table clock, which was timely but the total opposite of cool.

Over the years he has served Pixar in various technical capacities but, in some miraculous circumstance, he is currently voicing Becky, “an offbeat, kooky loon” in Pixar’s June release of “Finding Dory.”  I can’t wait for the spin-off products which will inevitably follow.  I want the plush toy and the beach towel.

Low Hanging Fruit

My darling sister has a favorite saying when one is starting the task of divesting oneself of a lifetime of detritus.  It is way too daunting to tackle everything at once so what you do is just go through everything and throw out all of the “low hanging fruit.”  Stuff that is unfixably broken; stuff that is just stupid and embarrassing that you even saved it in the first place; stuff that you have zero sentimental attachment to and, finally, other people’s (including family) stuff that somehow ended up in your closet, attic, or basement.  Things, in other words, you have no compunction about relegating to the trash bin.

The second step is to go through it all again and winnow out stuff you can donate to charity; give to friends/family; put on the curb for passersby and, again, fill up another bag or two of perhaps, this time, recyclables.

The third step is more difficult because, now, sentiment enters the picture.  But this third low hanging fruit processing is the most important.  You must ask yourself deeper questions.  Do you really want to keep this?  Have you worn it or used it or, even more important, looked at it over the last two-three years?  Would any of this be important to anyone that might have to take over when you have escaped this mortal coil?  Further to this is the fact that this person would be starting from scratch with your low hanging fruit.  It would be a first step to them even though you are well into your third.  What would they do with your lava lamp?

If you are true to your quest and have made some good progress and are proud of this fact and feel you can breathe easier and have done the right thing, you will hit a brick wall.  Your will-to-purge will freeze up and making even one more decision is impossible.  This is the time to box it all up and put it back in the closet.  Address it again at the same time next year.  Merry Christmas!

Toaster Roast



My new toaster sucks.  When buying it I got sucked in by the low price, the 20%-off coupon and the brand name.  Yes, you would think the word Cuisinart would guarantee a quality product, wouldn’t you?  It’s made of the thinnest plastic; the thinnest tin and the thinnest resemblance to a functioning toaster you can imagine.  And the “bagel” setting doesn’t mean it toasts on only one side like my lately discarded (and now lamented) Black & Decker; it just means it toasts longer.  Since it has a knob that controls the length of toasting this button is totally redundant.  I know, I know, you get what you pay for.  I’ll probably trade it in for a toaster oven

Puzzle Punk't

I was successfully punk’t today by, of all things, The New York Times.  Within the crossword puzzle’s answers is secreted this:  DUE TO BUDGET CUTS THE NEW YORK TIMES CROSSWORD PUZZLE WILL END TOMORROW (17; 34; 40; 60 across).

Once I solved the puzzle and was outraged by the thought of the puzzle’s theme I looked at the paper’s date and realized I had been made a fool of on this first very fine day of April.  However, before I realized my foolishness I rationally considered just how important the NY Times crossword is to me.

If the crossword was actually dropped what would I do?  At first I thought I would just cancel my subscription all together.  Then I thought, well, I can subscribe to a limited number of issues weekly; settling on Friday, Saturday and Sunday since those days of the week are the most difficult.  When sanity returned I had to admit the puzzle is at least important enough to me to consider cutting back on this budgeted item since it’s a fairly expensive proposition.

I have to confess the NY Times is as much a prescription as it is a subscription because of its beneficial qualities to my mental, educational and emotional well-being; not to mention the snob appeal.  No puzzle there.

Dreamscope

 I think this swept through social media for about two seconds.  It’s an app for the iPhone called “Dreamscope” and it can turn any photo into a variety of ersatz end-products, including an oil painting that can look like this one.  There is water color and  Impressionism and black-and-white etching and all kinds of specific painter-ish renderings to suggest a Picasso or Pollock or Monet or Warhol or whomever you wish (probably).  I cringe at the implications but I’m not immune to the fun of it.  And, hey, maybe some 14-year-old will learn who Rauschenberg is:  https//dreamscopeapp.com

Carlos Lopez photo art redux

Last May I bought a photograph from Carlos Lopez (an image of it is posted on here).  This year I bought this one.  It has been transferred to a 16”x24” wrap-around canvas and the subject is a “corkscrew palm.”  Carlos told me he found it in some off-the-beaten-path neighborhood in Miami.  It is a one-and-done photo because when he went back a couple of weeks later to give it some more serious consideration the tree had been chopped down.  I think it is beautiful…both the tree and the photograph--and just look at that sky!

Ghosts of bagels past

Since practically the first day, probably the first week, that I moved to Florida (that would be August of 2014) I have been searching for what has turned out to be a ghost.

When I moved to Brooklyn, NY in 1971 my first culinary discovery was the lowly bagel.  So for over four decades I was spoiled into thinking they would be with me forever.  When friends and family came to visit I automatically got them hooked on various varieties of bagel, to their individual taste of course.  Some chose plain; some chose whole wheat or pumpernickel or cinnamon raisin and some settled on a variety of toppings, from basic sesame or poppy seed, to onion to garlic to salt and the ultimate in taste bud explosion(s) the "everything."  A lot of my guests insisted on stopping at my local deli (Terrace Bagels) on their way out of town so they could treat their loved ones back home.  I took having these bagels available, fresh daily, for granted.

I have now realized that searching for a reasonably facsimile in the Ft. Lauderdale area is impossible.  I am saddled with a memory.  Nothing here can compare with there.  Various friends and acquaintances have recommended a phalanx of restaurants and/or delicatessens but all have fallen on the wrong side of palatable in comparison to those served up by Terrace Bagels or, at least, my memory of them.  And, after all, it hasn’t been all that long since I moved.  The one place that comes close is Chesapeake Bagels but only because they look right.  But they are really as ordinary as the rest.

I just wish I had traveling friends who could bring me bagel largesse from my old neighborhood.  Now I understand why they did it.  They are only made manifest in New York City.  Here they are ghosts.

To bury or not to berry

I was invited to an Easter lunch and the host requested, as my contribution, either an apple or a berry pie.  On Saturday I went to the bakery at Publix supermarket in Wilton Manors and beheld a nice selection of pies.  However, there was only one berry pie left and it was not really ready for prime time; being moofered in various ways…it probably should not even have been offered for sale.

When I was a junior in high school we studied Macbeth in my English class.  I was pretty much clueless about Shakespeare then and hated it; both Shakespeare and my cluelessness.  Until, that is, a senior girl I liked, whose English class was studying Julius Caesar, suggested we help each other by reading the plays out loud (a recommended technique in understanding Shakespeare).  I learned Antony’s “Friends, Romans, countrymen” speech by heart and I remember shrieking girlishly with my friend when I made farce of the second line, which is:  “I have come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.”

I have waited 63 years to have an opportunity to use my aberration in public and as I stood in front of the bakery case this Saturday, staring at that messed-up berry pie, I had my opportunity:

“Friends, Romans, countrymen; I have come to seize your berry, not to praise it.”

But, alas, I couldn’t do that to the poor overworked clerk who was looking at me expectantly.  “May I help you with something,” she said; kindness oozing from her every pore.

“I’ll take the Dutch apple,” I said.

Deep Eddy

This is my new cocktail of choice.  I first saw this bottle of Deep Eddy Ruby Red behind Rick’s bar at the Wilton Manors bowling alley. It caught my eye because of its color and, when I asked about it, Rick told me it was grapefruit-infused vodka.  So I gave it a try.  For my taste it was way too strong to be served on the rocks so, since Rick had no clue with what to cut it, I requested it be topped off with tonic.  A strike!  Make the next one a double!  Maybe even a turkey!

Commercial Glitz

My taste in art and well, shall we say “interior design” is fairly quirky.  I like a lot of modern art and am, of course, enamored of the Impressionists.  And Picasso and Klee and Basquiat float my boat.  But, you know, sometimes a man needs some commercial glitz in his life.  $23 (on sale) moved this wreath from the bowels of Pier 1 to my living room wall.  It is not ironic décor by any means.  I just like it.  Get over it.

Message to LeBron

When Michael Jordan retired my worship of an individual sports figure went on hiatus.  Until, that is, LeBron James came along.  LJ is still my main man and, yes, I bought his Miami Heat jersey early on in his career and was fairly appalled when I moved to Florida and he moved to Cleveland without consulting me.  But he won my heart again when he took a totally talent-depleted Cavalier team to the finals in his first year there.  And, although it was LJ’s special prowess that certainly took them to the finals in the first place, it also served to introduce me to the eventual winners; the Golden State Warriors and, of, course, Stephen Curry.
 

Two or three weeks ago I saw a pre-game interview with Curry and he was cool and personable, which was nice, but I was also taken by what I thought was a rather handsome warm-up t-shirt he was wearing.  So, as any fan would understand, I went on-line and bought the shirt.  It is telling that I bought a Golden State Warriors’ shirt but, pay attention; it does not have Steph Curry’s name or number on it.  Don’t get me wrong, like everybody else, I’m warm to him but don’t worry, LeBron, I’ve got your back.  And your jersey.  Your jersey; not your t-shirt.  Now that’s sustainable loyalty.

Once Upon a...

Posts like this one are basically why I dropped out of Facebook.

My new mattress is notable only because I have been sleeping on a futon since, I'm pretty sure, 1971.  No, not the same one, but a string of them over the years and I was always the butt of jokes, awe and, sometimes maybe, admiration.  I truly believe they helped with genetic lower-back problems but now, once I decided it was time for a new mattress, there are more options of standard brands and, it seems like, limitless choices as to firmness, materials and looks.  Right now there seems to be a price war among the vendors of this most necessary of sleep aids and I think I've taken advantage of  sale offers that transcend the ordinary.  The marketing ploy that sent me over the edge was Mattress Firm, who screamed "76% OFF" in their television ads and store windows.  Since everybody else whispered "75% OFF" how could I go wrong?

It's a Sealy Posturepedic Ashlin 9.75" Firm Mattress and my first night was fine and I didn't fall out of bed and it didn't fall on me so, hey, so far so good!

Shrinking Circles

This is Martin Shkrell.  He is 32 and the CEO of Turing Pharmaceuticals. He has become a "public villain" and apparently the face of one of the deadly sins; i.e. Greed.  Turing acquired a company that made a life-saving drug that sold for $13.50 per pill, which seems to me pretty steep if you have to take them daily, or even weekly, over a long period of time.  Overnight Mr. Shkrell changed the price of this drug to $750 per pill.  Hence the greedy villainy.

Mr. Shkrell sees nothing shocking in this or even out-of-the ordinary and continues to thumb his nose at anybody who voices an objection.  Personally, what was shocking to me was that several people in my circle of friends see nothing wrong with this.  It is therefore a symptom of why my circle of friends is rapidly shrinking.
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Update 12/18/2015:  Mr. Shkrell was hauled off  to the clink in a pre-dawn arrest yesterday morning on charges of hedge-fund fraud in a "Ponzi-like" scheme.  Couldn't happen to a nicer guy.  Maybe Bernie Madoff needs a cellmate for the next couple of decades.